Reawakening: Primordial Dragon with Limitless Mana

Long ago, there were only three Dragon Kings ruling over their kin.

It was a time of despair.

A deadly plague had swept through the dragonborn, a sickness unlike anything seen before. It spread through the air, striking swiftly, leaving no defense and no cure. Once the illness took hold, the blood of its victim grew cold, draining their life away.

Many dragons tried to resist it—some even bathed themselves in molten lava, hoping its heat could drive the sickness out. But unless one could pour fire directly into their veins, nothing could stop the chill.

The dragonborn perished in great numbers, their mighty race brought to the brink of ruin.

Then, when all seemed lost, a Sage appeared. She alone carried the cure. But she did not offer it freely.

The Sage demanded a pact—an Oath sworn by the three Dragon Kings themselves. If they wished to save their kin, then every dragonborn must forever turn away from the human realm.

It was not an easy choice. Yet faced with extinction, the Dragon Kings agreed. The pact was sealed, and humanity was spared from the wrath of dragons. For the first time in an age, mankind was given space to grow, to heal, and to build their world again.

Seven hundred years have passed since that day. The world has changed. Two of the original Dragon Kings have fallen, replaced by new rulers.

Realms have stabilized, kingdoms have flourished, and peace has taken root. For the first time since the Great War, the world has known calm.

But peace cannot last forever. The Oath is weakening. With two of its creators gone and the Sage now frail, the Veil between realms begins to thin. Already, it is said that if enough Warlord-ranked dragons joined forces, they could shatter the barrier.

The time of silence is ending. The age of fire and shadow may soon return.

"The situation is grim. I suggest fortifying your fronts. They will not trouble Torseque, so that border is safe. But from the North…" The Sage paused, her eyes heavy, "that is where they will strike."

Her voice carried no rise or fall—calm, cold, indifferent.

The advisors immediately bent their heads, scratching down every word into their diaries, as if they were divine commands carved into stone. Not a syllable was to be forgotten.

Ivy leaned forward, a frown etched deep on her face. Her voice wavered between worry and defiance. "So… a war is inevitable, then?"

Rayden let out a low groan. He was a man who never feared the clash of blades, w ho found thrill in battle where others found only terror. Yet even he sounded weary now. "As much as I enjoy the fight, this… this isn't what I ever wished for. A war of this scale might destroy everything—everything our hands and the hands of our ancestors built over centuries. All of it, gone in a storm of fire."

A heavy silence fell after his words. The truth hung in the air like smoke—bitter, suffocating.

For generations, their people had prepared. The finest smiths forged weapons, their minds sharpened machines designed to bring down flying beasts. They trained soldiers not for men, but for wings, scales, and flame. Everyone knew the day would come, though most prayed they would never live to see it. And now that day stood before them.

But all their preparation… would it be enough? Against what was coming, no wall felt tall enough, no weapon sharp enough.

Hades clenched his teeth, his hand trembling against his knee before he finally spoke. He was not supposed to. He had been told clearly: speak only when asked. But the weight of the room pressed too heavily on him, and the future painted before them was too dark to stay silent.

"Can't you… can't you ask the Dragon Ruler?" His words cut through the silence, his voice unsure but loud. "The one you bound with an Oath all those years ago. If he still honors that pact… maybe he can help us, right?"

All eyes turned toward him. He might have said something that was on several other minds

The oldest among them shifted in her seat, her hands folding upon each other. A sigh escaped her, slow and heavy, carrying with it the weight of centuries. Her gaze lowered, then rose again, before she relayed.

"Well…" she began, her voice rough with age and memory, "even if he agrees, even if the Ruler himself lends us his strength… one Oath will not hold forever. To forge another, I would need the support of the majority. It is not my will alone that can bind such power."

Her eyes flickered across the room. Then they lingered, resting at last upon Arthur.

"Perhaps this time," she said, her tone carrying both warning and promise, "someone else will bear the weight of being Oathbound."

Arthur stiffened where he sat. While he was proud about the fact that his teacher trusted him with the job, the duty was still quite heavy for him.

Despite the experience and the strength he possesses, he doesn't know if he is worthy.

"Is there no way to convince them?" Lucen asked, looking troubled.

The Sage hummed, "Well, there is a way—not to convince them but make them agree to our demand."

Everyone straightened up in their seats, eager to know what could be the possible way for survival.

The Sage waved her hand before a burning cup appeared on the table, "The Trial of the Flameborn. A tournament...or more like a death duel held once in two years in the dragon realm. If you win this, you can get any wish fulfilled by the Dragon King who organizes the tournament."

While those words sounded hopeful there were two glaring problems.

"Someone from our side strong enough to defeat possibly Warlord-ranked dragons?"

"And this would only get us the support of a single Dragon Lord...we need one more too."

The Sage grinned as she glanced at Hades, "Well, when the time comes, we will get the support from a third as well."